


Under Duress by Dragon

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Dragons, First Meetings, Gen, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaiah was having a bad day on the Storm Coast just by being on the Storm Coast. </p><p>Lathasha was having a worse day. And that was even before the dragon showed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Duress by Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write out how a pair of my oc's met in the dragon age universe, since I'd been thinking about it for a while! It changes POV a couple times, but I'll clearly mark where that happens with a page break. 
> 
> I've also included pictures of the pair, for convenience

 

Lathasha used to like to think she could find the goodness in most people. She used to think it was at least definitely in her best interest to believe she could find goodness in anybody. After all, who wanted to live in a world where there existed absolute corrupt evil? Her world view, admittedly, had been rather small living in the Revassa clan-- it wasn’t even a very large clan, of only twelve people. But she occasionally met brutish traders, and in her experience being kind to them paid off. It probably helped no small measure that she grew up decently beautiful, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

Ruth has since given up this worldview. It might seem rather sudden, considering the circumstances leading up to this sudden shift happened only yesterday, but she would tell you she has damn good reason. Being nineteen years old, she would have told you she was an adult, and was prepared to handle most anything with adult grace and wisdom. But when the poachers net came down on her while she was stalking a hart with her bow and dragged her away into a caravan, all adult grace and wisdom left her in a big hurry, and she resorted to screeching and clawing like a wild animal.

 

They forced her into a dress that definitely consisted of more holes than cloth, groped her and touched her in places she’d certainly sooner forget, and lashed her with chains. The leather cuffs bound her wrists together so tightly she cried and the long chain they welded directly to the cuff ring burned her forearms terribly.

 

The events of the last few days left her battered and exhausted and all things considered, being chained to a boulder in a torrential downpour on some deserted rainy beach was a vast improvement over the last few days-- certainly preferable, it feels heavenly on her scabbed arms. She’s able at least to breathe, to scoot back against the rock and assess her situation. She’s far, far away from home, she knows that much at least. She’d caught several glimpses outside the caravan they trundled her in for days, and she noticed less and less snow, to the point she’s decently certain there isn’t even frost here. It never rains this fiercely back home, and she’s never seen such an enormous body of water in all her life.

 

So getting back home after escaping here (nevermind even considering escape so far) will be a challenge, but not impossible. Her clan is likely already looking for her, so that’ll make reuniting with them easier. The most difficult part of her plan is definitely getting off this rock. The chain had been welded to a ring pounded deep inside the boulder itself, and she certainly doesn’t have the strength to pull it out, especially not after days without food. Opening her mouth to the sky is the only decent drink of water she’s had in days.

 

One step at a time. First she needs to find out where she is. Standing isn’t easy, the vast and flat rocks are slippery with algae and rainwater, and she’s unsteady with hunger. She dashes her arms against the boulder the first time she slipped, and the pain-fire that surged through her enabled her to catch her balance and even produce a mighty scream of indignance. If those poachers thought she would be beaten by this, they had another thing coming.

 

 

 

  
====

 

 

 

  
The Storm Coast isn’t the ideal place for a meeting, but when Isaiah King receives correspondence from people seeking shelter in his desert community, he delivers no matter the distance. The band of huddling, frightened bandits instantly gained his sympathy and respect, for living in such a dreadfully wet place. His usually impenetrably fluffy blond mane and beard were flattened down completely by the rain, which is no small feat to say the least. It was only a short meeting with their leader and a peace treaty before they were set to make the long journey to the eternally dry and blessedly warm Hissing Wastes, where he would enfold them into the arms of The Library.

 

But then he heard a scream, echoing somewhere down the beach. He’s surprised to hear anybody else is alive on this beach, it should be the last place any living creature would want to be. It catches the interest of his new companions as well, so they put a small delay on leaving for the south and instead make their way down the beach in the direction of the noise. There’s some speculation on what it could be-- an animal caught in a trap, perhaps. A sea bird screeching about losing its shellfish in the water. Isaiah has great fun making up sillier and sillier ideas with the bandits, pleased to see their spirits already higher.

 

When they round the bend of the beach and a great dragon’s screech fills the air, all air of fun or joy instantly fizzles into cold lead pellets of fear. The scream hadn’t sounded like a dragon, but then again it was so many minutes ago. In any case, Isaiah needs to shelter these young people under the trees as quickly as possible, and he quickly nudges them with massive hands towards the forest.

 

“Look!” one of the youngest members of the band points out across the wide, flat rocks. Isaiah follows her hand and his mouth falls open when he sees a young woman in a threadbare white gown struggling at the end of a long chain bound to a boulder twice the size she is. Her bare feet slip on the rocks and she stumbles, long braided hair soaking up water like a sponge and hanging heavily in her face.

 

He has to help her. More than anyone in the world, she needs his help right now. He urges the others towards the trees just as the mighty shadow of the circling dragon looms overhead, and takes stock of what he has that could be of any use fighting a dragon. A hunting knife, a length of rope, a completely drenched fur cape... perhaps he could throw the cape over the girl and the dragon would be fooled into thinking she was just a rock, and he could wait to help her free when he wasn’t under duress by dragon.

 

He’s scarcely ten feet away from the tree’s edge when the dragon comes to a land right before the woman. She staggers, hands bound and raised in terror, taking shaking and slipping steps back. Poachers spring out of hiding, but the dragon kills them with one mighty swipe of her tail, and with another screech skyward, she snaps her jaws down over the woman in one easy stroke.

 

 

 

  
====

 

 

 

  
Dragons were never a big part of Dalish culture. It was acknowledged that they existed and children didn’t even really need to be told not to go anywhere near them if their travels ever brought them close to a nest. Lathasha hadn’t been prepared, however, for just how big dragons are. She’s never felt so completely and totally helpless in all her life, backing up uselessly from the silvery dragon stalking towards her.

 

She doesn’t even have time to consider her life choices or pray to the ancestors or even scream before that great mouth is opened and coming right for her. The great vertigo feeling of being lifted in the stinking, pitch-dark chasm of a dragon’s mouth has Lathasha dry heaving bile across the monster’s tongue. Her surroundings smell like rotten meat and the sensation of lying on a tongue is easily the most disgusting thing she’s ever experienced. But then the monster swallows.

 

Lathasha finally finds her voice, and she screams as loud as she can. Her descent is halted a moment later when the great chain that lashed her to that rock snags on one of the dragon’s teeth, and she’s stuck hovering at the back of its throat. Its mouth opens in an indignant roar as its meal is lodged painfully and her surroundings are illuminated by the grey sky. In that instant, every nerve in her body, every instinct and cell and vein and muscle seizes up in the almighty urge to fight, and with all the might a skinny underfed elf shouldn’t have, she begins to drum her feet against the dragon’s uvula.

 

The beast roars and chokes, heaving a vile wave of rotten meat onto the rocks. It carries her up into its mouth, but that blasted chain stops her from tumbling down onto the beach with the rest of the monster’s wretched meal. She dry heaves again and loses her balance, and when the dragon opens its mouth to roar, she tumbles backwards through the gap provided by a missing tooth, and falls.

 

She’d anticipated the impact of the rocks-- a broken leg, perhaps, a concussion-- but her descent is halted a moment later when the chain catches on the beast’s fang, and leaves her dangling from its mouth like a fish hook by her wrists. She takes just a moment to breathe in relief and be very grateful for the rain washing away the horrible sludge of dragon vomit when she hears a very human-sounding voice and looks up to see a giant man near the tree line shouting something she can’t make out. She doesn’t recognize him from the poachers, so perhaps he’ll help her, if she can only get free.

 

The dragon roars and begins to shake herself off, swinging the chain Lathasha hangs from in a nauseating and very painful way. She has no choice but to put her body into the swing, as resistance is painful on her still-burned arms. She didn’t expect the chain to swing so violently that she’d suddenly be presented with the top of the dragon’s head, but perhaps she’s been through so much shit over the past few days that serendipity is smiling down on her. She lands hard on the beast’s nose and scrambles to straddle her face, digging her thighs and heels tightly against the rough scales as she begins to tug the chain with all her might.

 

The dragon screams and Lathasha screams, and just like that,the chain slips free with such a mighty tug it has the elf tumbling backwards towards the dragon’s eyes. She scrambles for a hold, and her cuffed arms snag around a hornlike protrusion from the dragon’s skull, just in time for her to give another roar and take flight. As if her day couldn’t get any worse.

 

Lathasha holds on for dear life, screaming and screaming until her voice goes hoarse. Her cuff slips off the horn and she tumbles back across the great heaving back of this monster. She’s easily a mile in the air, even a fall from this height into the water would likely kill her, but she figures it’s her best bet. She hunkers down, struggling to keep her balance, clinging to scales and horns until her whole body aches whenever the dragon’s back tilts in her flight. She stumbles farther and farther back down her slippery body, towards the tail, hoping to take a somewhat graceful dive off it into the water. Now’s her chance, the dragon is swooping low, coming in only a few meters off the ground--

 

But then that chain, the bane of her existence, snags on a wing, and her leap into the water is halted by the dragon’s tail slamming right into her. She feels a rib or two pop under the pressure, and can’t even muster the breath to scream before she’s landing hard on the rocks and rolls to a stop, completely unconscious.

 

 

 

  
===

 

 

 

  
At first, Isaiah can’t even move. It made his stomach turn to think that he’d just barely been too late to save this poor girl from being dragon-meat, when all hell unfolded right before his very eye. Mouth open agape, he watched in awe as a girl freed herself from a dragon. He’d never heard of anybody flying on the back of a dragon before, and he doubts if he or she told this story again they’d ever be believed. But he saw it with his own eye, and he’ll never forget the sound that girl’s body made when it hit the rocks.

 

He’s snapped out of his reverie when the dragon gives another roar and flies away, and he pitches out into the rain towards the girl. She’s totally limp, lying on her side facing away from him. He can only pray she doesn’t have some kind of back injury as he rolls her over to look at her. She’s bleeding from a large scrape over the side of her head, large but shallow-- manageable. Her arms appear to have had some trauma done to them a few days ago, and those cuffs aren’t coming off without some serious TLC. He can only wonder what happened to this poor girl. She looks so young, so lovely and innocent-- dark skin glittering in the rain, intricate Dalish tattoos curling across her brow and chin, propped up like a skinny bird in his arms.

 

He whistles for the others to come help, and they charge out of the trees, one already taking off his long coat to be used as a sling. They gently manipulate the girl onto the coat after its laid out, chattering about the unbelievable sight they all just witnessed. Another man removes his shirt and lays it out over her to give her some decency, as the rain long-since soaked her thin white gown totally see-through.

 

Isaiah gives commands for others to go ahead, find some dry shelter for them, as he and the other two helping him hold the sling are forced to move slowly so as not to jostle the girl. He hears a weak moan and looks down to see the girl already rousing, golden eyes opening to look blearily skyward.

 

“Hey, don’t worry lass,” he tells her as he works with the others to get her over a fallen tree. “We’ve got you.”

 

She can barely see, her head is spinning so violently, but she takes in the grinning face of a blonde man, and thinks for a moment that Falon’Din has sent her a mighty spirit to guide her into the afterlife, before her thoughts all sort out and she realizes she’s being physically carried by that man she’d seen before.

 

“Lathasha,” she says tiredly.

 

Isaiah laughs out loud. Even after everything that has happened to her just now, and likely over the past several days, her manners instinctively have her introducing herself with her first breath of free air. He likes this one.

 

“Isaiah,” he returns the gesture. “Me and my friends are gonna take care of you, don’t you worry little miss. We’ll make sure you’re back on your feet in no time. And maybe arm you while we’re at it. Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be without a weapon out on her own.”

 

Lathasha manages a weak, pitiful laugh. Somehow, being called pretty right now feels like the most absurd thing he could have possibly said. She gives him a tired smile, her vision slowly focusing in on his tanned, freckled, one-eyed face.

 

“Are you flirting with me, Mister Isaiah?”

 

His turn to laugh, and he laughs nice and hard, loud enough that it’s infectious, and she feels her weak smile blossoming into something wider.

 

“Why, miss, after what I just saw you do? Wouldn’t anybody?”

 

Laughter hurts her injured ribs, but it makes her heart heal, and so she laughs.


End file.
